Darcy's Kisses
by xXvioletscriptXx
Summary: Mr. Darcy of Pemberly has five types of kisses. Those of which he has shared with the utmost confidence with the newest addition to his household. Purely Darcy and Elizabeth fluff
1. Tender

Elizabeth sat within the confines of Pemberly's grand library, nose deep in a weathered novel she'd read numerous times before. The outside had found itself in a frostbitten state, much too cold and dreary for her regular morning walks. The lake had since frozen over and disappeared under a mound of white, and the trees in the garden shivered delicately in the winter's unforgiving breeze. Her eyes drifted lazily toward the figure pressed against the furthest wall, intent on perfecting a letter. His back was stiff from years of proper etiquette, shoulders at attention as he sat at his desk. A small smile managed its way across Elizabeth's lips as she returned to her reading.

On occasion, Darcy would turn to her, fixing his even gaze on her form as she read at her leisure, enjoying each page more thoroughly than the last. Every chuckle she allowed from beneath her breath and every sniffle she attempted to conceal caught his attention in mild alarm. The latter more so, and he softly called for her as she dabbed at dampened eyes. She glanced his way in acknowledgment, briefly smiling to indicate she was feeling well.

Though he didn't accept the assurance, Darcy returned to whatever he'd set out to accomplish, only to turn once again as another sob escaped her. This one more desperate than the last, escaping from her chest in bold dissent. He stood without informing the other; her attention captured by whatever novel that had caused such distress, and sat beside her.

She laughed at him, calling him silly to cease his work to ensure her wellbeing. And he smiled sweetly, taking her hand in his, and kissing the knuckles in reassurance. Her eyes remained red rimmed as she glanced between him and the page, her smile wavering as her lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly. Thumb grazing softened skin, he turned and placed a delicate yet firm kiss upon her lips. His mouth feather light, and touch tender against her cheek, Elizabeth felt her lids flutter. For only a brief moment did it last, and with this she'd barely enough time to close her eyes before it ended. He stood then, returned to his writing, and proceeded as if without interruption.

* * *

**First P&P fic, so please be gentle. I recently finished the novel and am by no means an expert on the time period or characters. **

**Thank you for reading~  
**


	2. Passion

Quickened steps and restlessness were all too familiar with Darcy, and the panic found in the downward curve of his mouth and the furrow in his brow only emphasized his worry. But he very rarely turned up in such a frazzled state as this, typically only after having a laborious altercation with some businessman or troublesome acquaintance did his nostrils flare or knuckles whiten in this way.

He returned to the drawing room, crashing through parlor doors with a flushed servant left in his wake. The attendant appeared flustered, but dared not follow her master inside. Elizabeth quirked a brow, lips pursed curiously as he paced the length of the room. Her eyes followed each move, every huff of breath and clench of his fists. Darcy's actions caused her lips to twitch at the corners, eyes sparkling at such ungracious behavior. He'd act is if he were about to say something, pausing in his step with cheeks reddened from the exertion. But he quickly muffled the almost statement with a grunt, beginning the movement once again. She spoke up, making some remark on his actions with a light note of sarcasm and teasing in her voice. And he stared, bemused, frustrated, and ultimately charmed by her voice.

"Really now, Fitzwilliam, it's impolite to scowl so. Look now, you've left poor Miss Cooke's nerves in tatters with the way you stalk about."

She faltered when he crossed the room, pressing herself further against the settee. Elizabeth held his gaze evenly despite the off-putting flutter within her chest. They eyed one another, he hesitant and she curious. And just as suddenly as his appearance, their lips collided fervently. An argument without the howls, a rant without the clamor. Her fingers tangled within the thick of his hair, eyes held firmly shut as she indulged in the kiss. In him. His hands wound themselves around her back, holding her close in bitter content. The company of the other assured both, and kisses of passion allowed each to be reminded of its importance.

* * *

**I know the chapters are short, but there isn't too much to these. Thank you so much for the kind reviews, it makes me feel much more confident in my writing c:  
**

**Thanks for reading~**


	3. Concern

Sweat dripped from a creased brow, hand fanning at her flushed face. The other was desperately clasped, fingers entwined in a painful tangle as his lips pressed unrelenting against sore knuckles. She was unable to hide her smile, a usual response to his antics, and he only frowned further.

"Do not try to placate me with false senses of security." His eyes softened, and it was her turn to kiss his knuckles, the skin rough against softened lips. "Elizabeth-"

She hushed him into silence, "I promise you I am fine. People do not die of little trifling colds." Elizabeth gained as stern a look she could muster. The quoting of her mother would not be so humorous to Darcy as it was to she.

He brushed the hair from her face, slick from perspiration, and again his frown deepened. "Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth admonished in feigned seriousness, "Must you really put on that mask of yours? It is quite hideous."

A sudden jolt to his features and the ghost of a smile danced across his mouth. He would dare not laugh at a time as this, something she'd learned rather quickly. His presence was constant when she fell ill, and he ensured her health when allowed. When not, he requested someone to be near enough to tend to her every beck and call. Darcy though, found himself of most use when standing dutifully and faithfully beside his wife.

The door opened most quietly, and an attendant stepped in with hurried apologies. The master of Pemberly was needed once more, much to Darcy's displeasure. But he allowed the attendant his attention, bidding his fair Elizabeth farewell. The kiss against her cheek was a brief moment, but the breath against her skin allowed for far more enjoyment. And he disappeared, out into the endless corridors of the estate to solve whatever problem had reared its ugly head.

His absence was far more relaxing than that of his presence. The worried wrinkle in his brow, eyes steel and ever watchful. Recovering from a bout of illness was near impossible while watched by a hawk. But without him at her side, the room became much more quiet, and soon she longed for him once again. If only to fall asleep as they held small conversations between consciousnesses.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and the lovely comments! This one wasn't all too much about the kiss, though I really doubt any of them are. I tried with more dialogue, and to make the chapter longer, but as I said before, these are just short little things c:**

**Thanks for reading~**


	4. Distraught

Darcy's courage had faltered, his boisterous energy decreased dismally as a result of his most recently received letter. The fire churning within his stomach, attributed by the near constant consumption of liquor, unnerved him greatly. His hands shook violently as he took another drink, ice rattling in the glass. His eyes dimmed and dull, Darcy sunk uncharacteristically into the nearest chair.

His back to the door, the slight creak of ancient wood did not disrupt his thoughts. He did not notice the small footsteps nor the hesitant breaths of his most beloved. Only until her small arms wrapped around from behind, head placed lightly atop his own, did he realize Elizabeth's presence. She took a moment to press her lips into his hair, burying her face beneath the soft waves. He took her hand into his, kissing the knuckles numbly in response.

Mouth dry, eyes red rimmed and watering, Darcy turned to Elizabeth only to find her features similarly somber. She brought a finger to his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. He brought her to him, gathering her in his arms, drink now forgotten. The embrace pulled him apart, tense muscles collapsing as the seam finally came undone. Her nose pressed against the hollow of his neck, arms clinging desperately about his neck, and the pressure of her against him was all he could register. He held her close, breathing her in, enveloping her in attempts to conceal his disorganized thoughts.

Elizabeth kissed his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, much like he would do to her when distraught. She said nothing but a small reassurance both found unlikely. "Richard will be in good health soon. He's overcome much worse, and the battle scars he shall receive will only cause more boasting and tall tales."

The assurance soothed neither, and Darcy only clutched her tighter. His lungs burned and eyes stung, heaving uneven breaths. Her fingers stroked and calmed, attempting to quell his nerves. His mouth found her jawline, though perhaps they had been searching for her lips. They pressed against the bare skin for a long moment, firm and unyielding. She hushed him lazily, allowing his tired and worn body to collapse into the comfort of her arms. His fragmented thoughts paused for a moment, and his breathing settled. For the first time in days, Darcy finally slept.

* * *

**This was a rather difficult chapter to complete. Writing a distressed Darcy was almost too much to handle, and I needed to come up with a reason as to why he would be so upset. The only reason I could come up with was by putting Richard in danger. Whether he died due to his wounds in battle I leave up to you my dear readers c:  
**

**Thank you for reading and commenting as always~  
**


End file.
